


Team Operations

by esteefee



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Addiction, Coffee, Crack, Gen, Team, Twinkies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:05:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney is out of coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Operation: Holy Crap

**Author's Note:**

> esteefee is out of coffee.
> 
> this is very bad.
> 
> this is agoneeeeeee.
> 
> esteefee imagines Rodney McKay out of coffee, in a different galaxy, and in control of delicate and powerful Ancient devices, and this was the result.
> 
> thank God for team. :)

Rodney McKay is out of coffee.

Rodney McKay is lurching about the lab, hunting behind his lab supply paperwork (who would bother with paperwork? nobody, that's who) for his secret hidden stash of stale, crappy Tim Hortons, which of course he drank the last time he was this desperate, of course he did. 

The situation is now critical.

John Sheppard sees the signs and implements OPERATION: HOLY CRAP. The last time this happened they almost lost the South Pier. He dispatches Teyla to the Mainland for some Misachan _oacha_ \- it's a popular substitute among the Athosians that should stabilize Rodney until Ronon - God bless Ronon - can lean on his buddies at the Satedan compound for some of the good stuff, some homegrown Satedan _filban_. 

"This is the drink that makes us warriors," Solen Sincha had said and slapped John on the back so hard he coughed up his left lung. 

"It's working already," John said, voice an octave lower than usual thanks to the pain of a turned rib. "We'll just take some back with us."

But that was months ago now, and the Satedans are loath to trade their warrior drink. John sends Ronon through the Gate with a hopeful thumbs up and three precious cases of Twinkies as collateral - some of the last in this or any other galaxy. 

"Some days, McKay," John says under this breath. But Rodney is definitely worth the loss of John's favorite snack cakes, and worth his cracked elbow later when he has to tackle Rodney away from his laptop. "No typing!" John says, panting with pain while Rodney yowls in protest. 

"But, but -"

"Show me your hands, McKay," John demands.

Rodney raises one trembling, palsied hand, and clenches his fist immediately, face crinkling into a scowl.

"Fidgeting fingers sink cities," John says.

"Oh, very nice," Rodney snarls. "Say that three times fast, Admiral Alliteration."

"Call me Colonel Clever instead." John smirks. "There aren't any admirals in the Air Force."

Rodney's mouth works wordlessly for a moment or two before he stomps off. 

John follows him, just in case. 

:::

Teyla returns first, and together they force the hot oacha down Rodney's throat until he calms down a little. He's still a little shaky, but less inclined to blister anyone within a ten foot radius. John gives him back his tablet, but leaves it network-disabled.

"No cheating," he says. "I have Zelenka monitoring you."

"Lousy, stinking fink," Rodney mutters, but not loud enough to do damage. His breath smells faintly of cardamom. 

John starts to relax. 

There is one small incident later involving Lieutenant Reyes, a stun grenade, and a Nestlé Coffee-flavored Nip, but fortunately John reacts in time and the lieu only suffers minor, temporary hearing loss.

Rodney is confined to quarters until Ronon returns with two cases of filban.

"Good trade," John says to Ronon.

"They wanted some Ho-Hos too, but I told them 'no deal.'" Ronon looks smug. 

John immediately has Cooky brew up an extra dark pot of the filban, and together the team delivers it to Rodney's quarters.

"Ahhhhhhhh. Oh my God, yessss," Rodney says into his mug, and finishes it off before the steam has even settled. How he doesn't burn his tongue and throat, John has no idea. But the tremors stop almost immediately, and he holds out his mug one-handed for a second serving, his eyes big and pleading.

"All right," John says, indulgent. "But go easy on this. The _Daedalus_ is still a few days out." 

" _Daedalus_. Coffee. Real coffee." Rodney leans back and props his boots on the table, his nose buried in his cup. "You guys are good friends." Rodney says it into his drink, so John isn't sure he understands him.

Except he does. He exchanges a look with Ronon, who grins toothily, and Teyla, who bites her lips together - her way of rolling her eyes fondly. 

"Just drink your medicine," John says, and they all relax into the peace at last.

 

_End._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [No more Twinkies](http://www.mercurynews.com/business/ci_22013390/no-more-twinkies-hostess-shuts-blames-strike)?


	2. Operation: Twinkie Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodney saves Hostess. For Great Justice! (but really for John.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to AnonEhouse for pointing me to [this article](http://www.bizjournals.com/tampabay/blog/morning-edition/2013/03/twinkies-coming-back-say-new-owners.html)!

Sometimes talking to Ronon was like talking to a rock. An extremely tall, attractive rock. One with its arms crossed staring at Rodney as if he were disturbed in a fundamental sense.

"I don't want to go to Earth."

"But don't you want to help cheer up Sheppard? Seriously, Ronon, he's depressed. Apparently his last vision test shows he's slipped from 20/10 to a mere, human-like 20/20." Personally, Rodney didn't see the problem; but Sheppard had blown into an epic sulk that had been felt throughout Atlantis.

"Yeah, I'd like to help, but his brother won't. He's an asshat."

"An asshat." Rodney squinted. "Is that a direct translation, or—"

Ronon rolled his eyes. "No. I heard Sheppard call his brother that."

"Well, I think he will; they're a lot closer these days—admittedly by a somewhat wide definition of close." Rodney waved his hands. "See, you have me not making sense. How do you do that?"

Ronon just smirked.

"Just pack your gear. Operation: Twinkie Rescue is a go."

:::

It turned out Dave Sheppard was an asshat.

"I don't get it," he said, after Rodney and Ronon had blustered past his security, his private security, and his executive secretary, and explained the gripping problem. "You want me to purchase a bankrupt company and re-open manufacturing, just so the government can be the sole customers of a line of snack food cakes?"

Rodney nodded eagerly.

"And these will get shipped to the forward base where John is stationed?" Dave leaned forward. "You're saying my brother likes Twinkies?"

"He loves 'em," Ronon said. "Ho-Hos are his second favorite. Only we ran out of those after the—"

Rodney kicked Ronon's leg behind Dave's desk.

"—bad guys held us hostage a while back. Woolsey traded all twelve cases and some Strawberry Twizzlers for our freedom. It was a good trade," Ronon finished. "No shots fired."

Dave squinted in disbelief.

"Yes, yes—Woolsey is quite the diplomat." Rodney was still burning about the Twizzler fiasco. Goddamn Genii and their licorice fetish. 

"So, you're saying snack foods give you a military advantage," Dave said slowly. 

Rodney snapped his fingers. "Precisely. Think of it as a leg-up on a new military contract."

"Hmmm." Dave's eyes were brightening with a familiar-looking glee. 

"Great. Now there are two of you," Rodney said. "Just warn me before you jump into a hive ship."

"What was that?" Dave said sharply.

"Nothing."

:::

It was two months before Rodney heard anything, but then an email popped into his inbox—a press release forwarded by Dave. _**Twinkies coming back, say new owners of brand.**_ The subheading read: _Bulk of sales reserved for private contract bid._

Rodney grinned and rubbed his hands.

:::

"Sir, the _Daedalus_ requests permission to transport a special shipment directly to the Gate room," Chuck said.

"Oh, yeah?" John looked at Rodney and Ronon, who just shrugged innocently. But apparently their "innocent" needed some work, because John's eyes went narrow. "Tell them to go ahead," John said, his stare nailing them both to the Gate room floor.

A moment later the flash of white drew their attention to the stacks and stacks of cardboard boxes appearing in the center of the room.

"What the hell is all this?" John said when the beam disappeared. "'Sheppard's Twinkies?'" he read aloud.

"And Ho-Hos and Ding-Dongs," Rodney said, offering his hand to Ronon, who gave him a high-five. "Surprise!"

"For me?" John looked absolutely floored.

Teyla came strolling in with Torren in her arms. She took one look at the boxes and gave Rodney and Ronon a deeply suspicious look. "What have you two done?"

"What? Why would you—?"

"You guys…really?" John was grinning from ear to ear. He rocked back and forth, toe to heel. 

"But all those sweets—" Teyla tried. Torren was already reaching out toward one of the boxes making "Hoooo-hoooo" sounds.

"Yeah. Think of all those sweets," John repeated in a completely different tone of voice.

"We had help," Ronon said.

"Yes. Yes, of course—your brother, Dave. He bought Hostess for us so we could get all these for you. You know..." Rodney coughed. "...to cheer you up."

John's eyebrows did something impossible. "Dave?" John turned quickly back toward the boxes, his hand coming up to rub over his mouth. "I'll have to write him a note or something."

"Or maybe you could visit him or something," Rodney burst out, then ducked his head when John stared at him. "You could tour the plant."

"You know," John pointed at him, "that's a pretty good idea." 

Rodney grinned.

"You're not so dumb, McKay."

"Hey!"

Ronon laughed. John did too, if you could call it that. Rodney wasn't so charitable. 

Teyla dragged Torren away before they could start opening the boxes, tragically. Rodney was looking forward to seeing the kid's sugar rush. Soon the entire Gateroom was filled with marines and scientists stuffed with golden delicious cake, cream filling, and artificial dyes and flavorings.

And it was so very good.

"You guys are the best," John said, chocolate smeared on his forehead.

Rodney had to agree.

 

_End._


End file.
